Romania 1922 : First Meeting
by Charlien
Summary: This University was something he had fought hard to afford and accomplish, so he wouldn't waste his chances because of one dry Professor. He heard a loud snore some rows down to the left. - One-shot / Heiderich-centric - Prequel to Munich 1923


**Romania 1922: First Meeting**

_Prequel to 'Munich 1923: Our Worlds Meet' and 'Amestris 1917: The Equivalent Bond'  
_

--

Some fluff I wrote in just a couple of days while trying to get out of a terrible writer's block on the sequel to Munich 1923. I think it worked.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its characters or the movie.

--

Dedicated to **Billie the fourth sage**

--

The classroom roomed the tight smell of old wood and late summer air in form of a small breeze pushing gently through the open window. Barely noticeable though. The Professor's voice sounded like a half-dead engine, silently simmering through the ears of a hundred half-asleep students in the auditorium.

The voice had the same flat tone for each word. It was almost incredible how Professor Kiehle managed to paddle through each sentence, and how every word seemed so forsakenly uninteresting. Even if the fact was that it really _was_ interesting. It was just disguised by that voice. At least Alfons Heiderich chose to believe that.

Alfons rested his head in his palm, occasionally scribbling some notes. After all, he would never hear this particular lecture again, so just writing a word down now and then wouldn't hurt. He wondered how the studies for something he wanted to do for the rest of his life could seem to count so _little_ right there and then. Why did they even have to learn this? What was so important about how aircraft worked 20 years ago? Alfons could list hundreds of other related things that he'd rather learn about.

Like the present. Or the future. The past was long over. The only things to learn from the past were from mistakes.

During the first two weeks, each and every one of the hundred students in his class seemingly couldn't get enough information for their minds to swallow in big portions - almost no matter what Professor Kiehle had to say. But now, only half of them were even awake. It was early, first lesson on a Friday. It probably had its logical explanations. The week had been full of small tests and assignments. And the last one wasn't even finished yet; he had to deliver it first thing on Monday.

_Mental note to self._ He dutifully jotted down the date of the deadline.

But of course. He was in Romania now, far away from his home town. This University was something he had fought long and hard to afford and accomplish, so he wouldn't waste his chances because of _one_ dry Professor. He heard a loud snore some rows down to the left. The teacher stopped talking and turned, scanning the audience, fairly annoyed. A butterfly effect of low, controlled giggles and scoffs among the students followed another snore.

"Edward Elric," Professor Kiehle barked.

A blond figure jerked out of his position, pushing himself up more properly on the wooden bench and blinked in the authoritative man's direction.

"If this is how much my class interest you, why don't you do something better with your time elsewhere?" the Professor suggested, a tad pissed off. And probably offended as well.

The blond ponytailed boy snorted and rose. Without a word, he sauntered out of the room with his bag over his shoulder, leaving the rest of the class in quiet whispering.

"Anyone else who wants to follow?" Professor Kiehle asked sharply with his deep, Transylvanian accent.

The whispers died down, and then he proceeded with his lecture.

With a small smile, Alfons thought that he actually wouldn't have minded following the other out. Just this once.

--

At lunch time he went towards the Library. He trotted past by his roommate on the way, eating with his food by one of the study tables. The guy was Austrian and five years older than him. Alfons barely ever saw him, except at night when he came silently back from somewhere, falling asleep without exchanging any words with him.

Alfons didn't mind it because he didn't actually feel nervous around him. He just pretended to be oblivious to the attitude, even if he wasn't. Either way, he figured there was no reason not to act politely around people when they hadn't actually done him any harm. He just said hi as he passed him. Nothing more.

His receiving reply was a small grunt, but no looks.

Alfons shrugged. If this hostility was because Germany had tried to accomplish an everlasting unification with Austria-Hungary seven years ago in the Great War, there was nothing he could do to change it, was it? He hadn't even been part of the war, just forced to sit on the sidelines during it, caring for his sick mother and waiting for his father who never returned home. Apparently he had died in one of the muddy trenches like many other Germans.

No one had come unpunished from the Great War. Alfons didn't think the concept of war would make the world a better place. It was just politics. And the wrong people had been in control. Someday, his country would be forgiven, doing something great.

He wished to be a part of that.

While walking around the shelves in the huge University Library, lost in his own thoughts, he realized he had gone deep in-between the many rows of books. He smiled as his bright eyes fell on a fair-haired, golden eyed figure, seeming lost in concentration and sitting hunched over a book by a small table in one of the farthest corners. Alfons approached him slowly, turning on a friendly smile.

The other didn't seem to notice that he was there, and Alfons quietly cleared his throat. "Hi, I've seen you from my class," he said and held out a greeting hand.

His classmate jumped surprised up from his book and looked a little startled at him – without taking the hand he was offering.

Had his eyes widened a little by the sight of him? Like he was anxious? Or was he another German-hater? Somehow, when people heard he was German it could somehow have an apprehensive effect on them. Not everyone; of course there were many other Germans attending this University, but he had experienced it more than once.

Like he was some sort of bad person.

Usually Alfons got very well along with people.

"Edward, right?" he tried again, still keeping his smile. He tried not to think about it. There might be plenty of other reasons. This person avoided everyone. Alfons had never seen him exchange a word with anyone before. Maybe he just liked some privacy. Nevertheless, if Alfons just supposed anyone would think of him as a crazy warmongering asshole by judging from his accent, he wasn't any better than the others who passed an early judgment on other people after all.

"Yeah..." the ponytailed blond breathed out. And slowly, he reached his right hand back, accepting the greeting.

Alfons felt relieved. So it wasn't because he was German after all. Edward's hand felt hard and sharp, like a rock. And as he got a slightly better look, his hand had some sort of padding in the same colour as skin. "Wow, your hand is kind of stiff," he commented before his mind could stop him.

Edward pulled his hand back fast and went back to his book. "None of your business."

Alfons shrugged. That was true enough, so he wouldn't ask if the other didn't feel comfortable with it. "Do you mind if I sit here?" he asked instead, hoping he hadn't offended him.

Edward looked unsure. "... Sure."

Alfons sat down by the table opposite of the other, picking up his homework. It was near deadline, and he didn't want to sit all weekend with the assignment. He glanced up at Edward once more. He was scanning the pages of his book again, the golden eyes moving from line to line almost marvellously fast. He was reading "_The Principal Ideas of the Theory of Relativity"_ by Albert Einstein.

"What made you start studying rocketry?" Alfons asked him curiously.

Edward looked up slowly and shrugged. "It seemed like... the most logical thing to do."

"I think so too," Alfons agreed. "I like the book you're reading," he continued. "Albert Einstein says: Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new." He smiled and continued openly: "That's what I want to do. Try out the new and unfamiliar things until it succeeds and bring the dignity back to my home country."

Edward snorted. "He sounds fishy. He says that energy and mass are corresponding. If the gravity of the Universe is equivalent to acceleration, and if those motions affect measurements of time and space, I wouldn't be here."

Alfons blinked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Just forget it," Edward said, a little fast. "What's your name?"

"Oh, sorry I forgot to introduce myself." Way to go… he thought, scolding himself in his mind. "My name is Alfons Heiderich." He was rewarded with a faint smile from the shorter blond.

"Alfons, huh."

"I used to live in Germany," Alfons said, even though Edward had probably already figured that out from the way he talked. "Munich," he added. He shook his head a little. Suddenly he had tendencies to start rambling.

"Haven't been there," Edward replied.

"Where do you come from?" Alfons asked.

"Uhm… London, I guess."

I guess? Alfons's curiosity grew with each word this person spoke. "You don't sound British," he said. This person spoke German fluently with him.

Edward shrugged again. "I read some German books, and it just came down quite ok," he said casually.

Alfons raised his brows at him, considerably impressed. "Not bad. Even I think our grammar is depressing sometimes."

Edward snort out something of a short laugh, which made Alfons grin. He went back to his homework, writing swiftly. The assignment was about how to theoretically create a self-designed primitive rocket model. Alfons's idea was to use a bottle, water and air pressure.

The amount of force would depend upon how much air was pumped inside the bottle. By adding a small amount of water, it would increase the mass expelled by the air pressure of the rocket.

Even if it was still just a sketch, he tried to express himself as professionally as he could. But he would rewrite it again later to be sure he found all the spelling errors. After some minutes, he had the feeling he got whenever he knew someone was looking at him.

Alfons glanced up, a questioning smile on his face at Edward. "You're staring," he informed politely.

Edward blinked as he just woke up from a daydream, and the golden eyes quickly shot down to his book again. "No, I'm not," he muttered. "... Sorry." His cheeks were getting slightly flushed in a pale shade of red.

Alfons laughed. He wasn't uncomfortable about it in any way. On the contrary he found himself thinking this person was being disturbingly attractive... _interesting_, he meant.

"Do I look like someone you know?" Alfons asked fast, shaking off his mind's last slip. As he thought about it, the first time Edward had looked at him it appeared like he had recognized him from somewhere else.

He was quite taken aback of the response he received to the question.

Edward didn't reply at all, not seeming to have even heard the enquiry. He seemed to be deeply absorbed in the book again.

Alfons was puzzled but let the topic go. Instead he pushed his half-finished paper gently towards him. "Could you have a look? Should I elaborate further or jump to the conclusion?"

Edward lowered his book again, watching the paper in something that was unmistakeably curiosity. He picked up the paper without a word, placed it on top of his open book and started reading it carefully.

Alfons watched him with a half eye, pretending not to feel too excited of how Edward would review.

"Jump to the conclusion. And you have some grammar mistakes," Edward noted after some minutes.

"I'm dyslectic," Alfons admitted apologetically. One of the things about himself he was less proud of. But he had gotten used to memorize how the words were supposed to be spelled. He would correct it later. He was about to thank him, but to his surprise the other blond reached for a quill and took some time, scribbling effectively onto his paper, correcting the spelling. Then he reached the paper back to Alfons. "I like your theory," he said. "It works well."

"Thank you," Alfons said gratefully with a bright smile. Somehow it felt very good to be complimented by this person. Even though he fell asleep in classes and acted strangely, he seemed awake in his mind. And Alfons had to admit it was weird that he could decipher his own language better than himself without being German, but he wouldn't point that out loud.

"I'm going out with some people later," Alfons said conversationally. "Want to come?"

Edward faltered, discreetly picking up his book again and performed a rather indifferent shrug. "I don't really--"

"It'll be fun," Alfons insisted.

With a distinctive look of uncertainty at him, Edward gave in. "Okay then."

--

"You have a _flying license_?" Alfons repeated; his cobalt eyes so wide they nearly popped out of their sockets. How old was Edward really? He didn't look much older than himself.

Edward shrugged it off, taking another big sip of his beer, which matched his golden eyes perfectly. The bar was lively and crowded. Some Romanian folk music was playing in the background.

"I came in contact with someone my father knew, and he simply offered me classes," Edward explained.

"But you look so…" Alfons started.

"Small," one of his friends from his class finished, who sat with them by the round table.

Edward's eyes shadowed, glaring daggers. "I'm not small!"

Alfons chuckled. "I think I'm the youngest among us, so don't worry."

"You're 16?" Edward said. It didn't even sound like he took a guess.

"Yeah…" Alfons replied. "How did you know?"

Edward shrugged. It seemed to be his favourite body language. "Just thought so." He smiled sheepishly. "You don't look like it though, you look older," he added.

"How old are you then?" Alfons asked.

"One year older than you." Edward emptied his glass. "This stuff tastes like piss."

Alfons burst out laughing. "Have one more!"

Edward grinned at him. "Sure."

Alfons joined him. He usually didn't drink so much. But he had just finished his assignment and it was without spelling errors, and he wanted an occasion to celebrate. He would have the whole weekend off, thanks to his new-found friend. And he found himself enjoying celebrating with Edward.

"Even though, the guy living in my dorm room always complains when I'm late in," Edward continued. "He doesn't get his precious beauty sleep or something."

Alfons let out a soft chuckle. "My roommate despises me because I'm German."

Edward looked puzzled. "Why?"

Alfons looked even more puzzled. "Because we're the ones to blame for the war and the world wide economical crisis, I suppose. The value of currency has dropped to nothing, and the prizes are ridiculously inflated."

Edward laughed. "Yeah, all that's your fault."

Alfons smiled widely of the inventor of _friendly irony_. "Does your family live in London?" he asked conversationally.

Edward snorted through a small smile. "No. My father lives here in Transylvania. He's teaching mathematics at the University."

"Oh." Alfons figured since Edward didn't mention a mother, he might not have any, just like him. But he asked anyway. "What about your mother?"

Edward's smile thinned. "She died of a disease when I was ten," he replied silently.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Alfons said. He knew the feeling. "My mother did too. I was 14."

Edward stared at him with his large golden eyes. Then he serenely lifted his glass. "To our mothers then."

Alfons smiled and clanked his glass towards Edward's. He gulped the large swig down a little fast and felt slightly dizzy afterwards. But the conversation at least got a little lighter after that. Edward started telling him a magnificent story about a boy with a metal arm and leg, and how he journeyed out looking for a red stone together with his brother.

Who would know Edward had such magnificent and creative imagination?

--

"I used to get into fights all the time," Edward said drunkenly as they walked home from town through a small park in the dark. It wasn't cold, since the last traces of summer still lingered in the sunken temperature.

"I don't like fighting," Alfons replied, glad that he had dragged Edward away from that guy before it had gotten very serious. "It's… _barbaric_," he stated. Luckily no one had gotten hurt when Edward seemingly lost his last beer in the other guy's lap.

Edward grinned. "You should learn how to though. You never know when you'll have a use of it."

Alfons snorted. "I don't plan on getting into fights with anyone."

"So, if someone hassles you or anything, you'll simply let yourself get beaten up?" Edward asked rationally.

Alfons gave him a look, quirking his eyebrow. "Probably not."

Edward stopped, turning to him. "Fight me."

"What?" Alfons repeated, taken aback. He discreetly took some small rearing steps. Fight Edward? Here and now? He didn't want to fight.

Edward bended his knees and lifted his arms. "I'll teach you how," he said.

Alfons's eyes widened, looking apprehensively around. What if the police showed up or something?

He turned back to the grinning figure in front of him and shook his head. "Edward, no, I--" Abruptly he was attacked and tackled down on his back in the grass. Alfons exhaled sharply.

Edward straddled him between his thighs and effectively locked his elbows under his knees. "If you need to knock your target unconscious while you have them down, you can use this position as you would have both of your arms free and your enemy wouldn't."

Alfons wriggled and twisted, struggling to get his arms loose. "Not fair, I wasn't ready!" he protested.

Edward grinned wider and stood up from him, offering a hand to help him back up. Alfons accepted with a snort, and took a steadier stance on his feet when he was up standing again.

Edward readied himself in front of him, and Alfons felt slightly startled. But something else tickled in his stomach as well. _Excitement._

"When I charge, I want to charge you from behind to get the upper hand," Edward said. "Try to stop me."

"Fine," Alfons said, feeling every apprehensive thought draining from him. _Bring it._

Edward charged for a second time, but this time Alfons was ready for it and made an attempt to get Edward down on his back the same way Edward had done to him. But he didn't quite succeed. Edward was surprisingly flexible, seeming to have guessed his movements on beforehand and he slipped easily beside the other's arm with suppleness akin to a cat, taking Alfons' unprepared arm with him in a gentle but still firm twist around his back.

Before Alfons could turn around to face him again, the smaller blond had his arm in a locked position behind his back while the other arm elbowed around his throat. While Alfons grasped Edward's arm to pry it away from his throat, Edward's foot kicked the inside of his knee, forcing him down on both of his knees in the damp grass.

Alfons suppressed a whimper.

"Are you taking notes?" Edward asked. He sounded like he enjoyed this.

Alfons wriggled, but Edward was sitting across both of his legs. He couldn't move anywhere. He sighed. "So what would I do now if this was a real assault?"

"You still have one arm free," Edward informed. "I probably would have used the elbow."

Alfons followed the hint and shot his elbow back into Edward's ribs.

Edward made a choked sound, letting himself fall back and breathe for some seconds. "Ouch," he laughed. "That was good!"

Alfons crawled up to his feet again, looking worried. Maybe he had hit harder than he had meant to. "Are you okay?"

"You don't ask your attacker if he's okay, Alfons," Edward said, still laughing. In a millisecond he was at his feet again. "Keep your centre of gravity low. Try to dodge me."

Alfons nodded, spreading his feet a little and bending his knees, copying Edward's stance.

And Edward charged with his fist. Alfons felt an attack of fear lurching in his stomach, and he snapped his head to the side, avoiding the fist by some tiny inches. He leapt to the side with the rest of his body, trying clumsily to keep his stance. "You're crazy!" he burst out. "If that had hit--"

"I wouldn't hit you," Edward assured. "Trust me."

Alfons fell silent. He hardly even knew this guy. But somehow, no matter what Edward did, Alfons didn't feel that he had any reasons to _not_ trust him. He was teaching him self defence after all. "Okay," he said slowly. "I trust you."

Edward smiled brightly. "Nice dodge, by the way."

Alfons' eye twitched.

"Now, you attack me," Edward continued excitedly.

And Alfons did, trying to get in another shot, but somehow Edward always managed to slip past him and dodge. He even flipped backwards, bouncing once on his hands and landed back on his feet.

In the end they were just wrestling and rolling around. Alfons was sure they could have kept it going for hours. Maybe all night. But after something of an hour, he had no idea what the time was, they both flipped down their backs in the chilly grass, breathing hard and laughing. Their clothes were dirtied with mud and dampened by the moist grass.

Alfons' arms were stretched out to each side. He felt exhausted, but alive. So this was why Edward liked fighting. It was kind of childish. But on the other hand, Alfons thought it was better doing it like this than purposely spilling a pint on someone to provoke an excuse to start.

The sky was still dark, but brightened up by millions of glittering stars. He could see them clearly.

"There are more stars out there than grains of sand in the world," Alfons said. "It has fascinated me since I was a child."

Edward lay on his back beside him, his left arm resting underneath his head. "Hey, Alfons," he said, his tone suddenly serious.

Alfons twisted his head towards him. "Yeah?"

"When I said I were from London, that wasn't exactly true."

Alfons pushed himself up on his elbows, scowling, and then switching to a small smile. "I knew it. You _are_ German. No one can learn our language that fast." He paused shortly. "Are you ashamed of it because of the War?"

Edward tiredly rubbed his forehead. "No, I'm not German," he said, laughing quietly.

"Then _what_ are you?" Alfons asked jokingly.

"You probably won't believe me," Edward said.

"Yes, I will," Alfons contradicted. "It can't be_ that_ bad."

Edward shook his head. "Sorry. Just forget it. We should head back now." He pushed himself up on his elbows and then up to his feet.

Alfons scowled at him. "Edward, you can tell me. We're friends, aren't we?"

Edward stopped, looking down in the grass without turning around. "Friends, huh."

Alfons stood up too, and finally Edward turned to him with a grimace that looked like a forced beam.

"I guess so," he said.

Alfons scoffed. What could Edward possibly tell him that he wouldn't believe?

"I'm from another world."

--

The last four words had haunted Alfons' mind the whole weekend. After they had been said, he had of course expected Edward to tell another fiction story. When that didn't come, Alfons had just shrugged it off. "If you don't want to tell me, it's fine."

Much more hadn't been said.

Alfons couldn't get the words out of his mind. Why would Edward say something like that and sound more serious than he had been the whole evening? Maybe it had just been drunken talk after all, even though Alfons would've thought the effects would have worn off after their little exercise in the park.

Alfons had tried to find Edward all weekend, looking for him at lunch and dinner, the Library and at the lab. But there were no signs of him anywhere, and Alfons didn't know where his dorm room was. The University was such a huge place, it was close to impossible to find one particular person if you didn't already know where he were.

Then before he knew it, the week had started at Monday again and he delivered his finished assignment to Professor Kiehle.

It almost felt like the exactly same week was starting all over again, repeating itself over and over again like a mad circle. He found a seat in the auditorium in front of a group of laughing guys, each one of them at least four years older than him. There were mostly guys in the class, and only a few girls. And everyone was much older than him. It was a little lonely. The most of the others just thought of him as a quiet smartass kid. Edward was the one person in this class that was closest to him in age, and the only one he felt he could have a real conversation with.

He sighed. He probably wouldn't even have gotten in at the school if Vato Falman, an old friend of his father, hadn't helped him get in contact with the right people. He was technically too young to be here. And quite_ few_ of the guys liked having a 16 year old German around who might be smarter than them. But he had applied in a different way than any of them. He hadn't just written a simple application. He had met up before the school started some months ago, and went through a theoretical and practical test at one of the labs, almost like an oral and practical exam. He had showed and told them almost everything he knew about rocket science. Most of it he had read himself to or learned from his father before the Great War.

He had worked hard for it, and the sensors had been impressed, one of them had been Professor Kiehle, and they had wanted him immediately.

Maybe Edward too had done something similar to get accepted into the school.

Just as the Professor was about to begin the lecture, Edward stepped into the classroom and found himself a seat by the wall. Alfons tried to get eye contact with him, but the class had started and the rows were fully packed with students. It was close to impossible to be spotted amongst so many people.

After two hours, Professor Kiehle was finally drawing the lecture towards an end. "Tomorrow Henri Coandă, my friend and famous air jet inventor will visit our class and tell about his latest invention," he proudly announced.

As the students got up from their seats and pushed their way towards freedom, Alfons' questing eyes moved around until he caught a glimpse of Edward's back disappearing further up front of him in the middle of the mass. The crowd was almost fighting to get out the doors. When they finally got out in fresh air again, he spotted Edward's ponytail as he walked across the school yard.

Alfons' head felt a little slurry from the lack of sleep he had had the previous nights. He didn't even know why he hadn't gotten much sleep, but he didn't let it bother him. He would catch up on it later. Probably.

It didn't take him long to catch up with the shorter blond. He gently caught Edward's right arm in a hold; it still amazed him how hard his arm felt. Edward whirled around and pulled his arm back, almost fidgety.

Alfons stopped, slightly taken aback. And for a moment, they both just stood there unmoving.

"Hi," Edward finally said.

Alfons struggled a little to remember what he had in mind of saying. "I just wanted to…" he started. "…it was fun on Friday." He smiled. "Want to have lunch?"

"Sure," Edward said with a shrug.

While they walked towards the cafeteria, Alfons had an odd feeling. He wasn't sure what it was, but Edward felt different around him. Almost like the first time they had talked. He seemed uneasy. "Is something wrong?" Alfons asked slowly.

"No," Edward replied shortly.

Alfons was sure he was lying, but didn't press. It couldn't possibly consider him much anyway, could it?

They gathered something edible on a tray, and found an available table in the middle of the bunch of eating and laughing students.

"I think the lecture tomorrow will be quite interesting," Alfons started conversationally. "Henri Coandă was the first to build a jet-motored aircraft. And hearing the theories from the developer himself must be more motivating than just being _told_ about it."

"His jet went down, crashed and burned," Edward said, unimpressed. "The only interesting thing about it is that he survived."

"But then he could at least develop it further again," Alfons said, ignoring Edward's tone. "His lecture will probably teach us how to prevent the cause of fire." Alfons thought that was quite an important thing to know, as an understatement.

Edward snorted. "The explanation to that is easy. If the friction of the gases flows straight beside the plane's body too closely, it will cause the fire. In other words, if the air exits in a ring around the outside of the aircraft and directed by being attached to a flap-like ring, the gases will flow over a convex airfoil." He picked up his spoon. "The gas will be drawn down to stick to the airfoil by a combination of the greater pressure above the gas flow and the lower pressure below it. Let me show you." Holding up his spoon in front of Alfons, Alfons could just nod slowly not quite sure if he followed; Edward continued and held up his glass of water in the other hand. "Look." He let only a thin stream of water flow down beside the backside of the oval shape of the spoon. The water was somehow drawn towards the spoon, following the oval shape, making the water change direction from running straight down on the table.

Alfons wasn't sure if he understood everything that came out of Edward's mouth from time to time, but in an unexplainable way, the things he said always made sense.

"Yeah, that explanation would probably be effective," he commented.

"And the solution to it," Edward continued nonchalantly, "would probably be building a better jet motor, one with an air compressor that can compress the air into a chamber where it will be heated and expanded by the fuel combustion and then allowed to expand out through a turbine into a nozzle, and then be accelerated into a high speed to provide propulsion. And by mounting turbofans on the top of the wings they will be able to take advantage of the effect I showed you with the spoon, as it will provide high-speed air even at low flying speeds." Edward took a breath, and continued eating as if nothing in particular had been said.

Alfons just sat there, wondering if he was actually stupid. But after some minutes, he shrugged it off and continued eating his food. He had to ask Edward sometime where he got his books from because clearly he had missed out on that particular part.

After lunch they went back to class and survived through another lecture with Professor Kiehle. But this time, Alfons found himself enjoying it much more. For now he sat beside a ponytailed and golden eyed wonder, and it was easier to get down more notes on the paper when they were two working together. Even though Professor Kiehle was a dry teacher, he worked effectively and could talk for hours in the speed of sound, so it wasn't easy to always manage to note down everything of the most important things. Edward would sometimes scribble something Alfons had missed and vice-versa, and afterwards they could share their notes.

After the class was over, they had already gotten their assignments back. Alfons was happy to discover the large red A in the front corner of his paper. Edward had gotten an A as well, but Alfons had only barely managed to spot the grade on his paper before he stuffed it carelessly into his bag.

As the day was over they went to each of their own business. Alfons returned to his dorm room, knowing that one big shelf of books were waiting for him to read them. But he still had other books he hadn't finished reading yet. Alfons wanted to read so much, but he never had the patience to stay loyal to only one book at a time.

His roommate came in some minutes after him, and Alfons looked up from his book. "Hi Fritz. How did your assignment go?" he greeted politely.

The Austrian guy fumed at him. "None of your business."

Better luck next time, Alfons deliberated with a shrug.

--

The next day he waved at Edward as he walked into the classroom. The shorter blond spotted him this time, and went to sit beside him again.

"I almost thought you would sleep longer today, since you already know all about Henri Coandă," Alfons commented cheerfully.

Edward scoffed, but didn't give any proper verbal respond.

Alfons found the inventor's lecture interesting enough, but he took his notes alone this time. Edward didn't even bother writing any. Alfons considered it a little arrogant, but just shrugged it off. It was just a guest-lecture. Maybe it wasn't relevant for Edward's later purposes for attending this school. He wondered what Edward's reasons really were.

After the lecture was over, Alfons was left puzzled. Even though the sermon had been significant, Henri Coandă had mentioned nothing of the results he had accomplished in his research together with other scientists after the known accident.

Alfons turned to Edward, but he was already gone. He always seemed to rush out of there. The German stood up slowly and waited for all the students to leave the room. Professor Kiehle and Henri Coandă seemed to be having a reunion conversation by the blackboard.

Alfons walked down, stopping close enough to let them know he was there, but not close enough to interrupt them.

Professor Kiehle greeted him with a smile. "Professor Coandă, let me introduce you to one of our many young talents of our class, Alfons Heiderich."

Henri Coandă smiled and nodded, greeted Alfons with a hand shake.

"I just wanted to ask you something," Alfons said.

"Feel free, Mr. Heiderich," Coandă replied openly.

"It would have been interesting to hear about the achievements of your research," Alfons said politely.

Henri Coandă nodded. "Yes, we're getting closer each year. But unfortunately our funding is low, so our research goes terribly slow. Although, as soon as we discover a solution this school will be one of the first to know." He smiled warmly.

Alfons scowled confused. "What about the effect with the water and the spoon?"

Henri Coandă's eyes narrowed and exchanged a puzzled look with Professor Kiehle.

"I'm not entirely sure what you are talking about, young man, but as said I'm very proud of that this important University exists in my home country, so each respective piece of discovery will be serviceable to this school to develop our knowledge as soon as it shows."

Alfons stared bluntly at him. "Thank you, sir."

There could only be one explanation. Edward wasn't any commonly normal person. He was a _genius_. Alfons hurried out of the classroom to find a certain blond foreigner.

--

For once he found Edward at the only place he could think of looking. The Library. At the same spot, farthest into the corner by the small study table. Edward was reading a different book this time. This person read fast.

"Edward," Alfons breathed.

Edward leisurely gazed up, looking puzzled at him with his deep amber eyes.

Alfons sat down opposite of him like last time, watching him carefully. "How did you figure out the effect with the spoon?"

Edward looked questionably at him and shrugged. "Doesn't it talk for itself?" He gazed back down on his book again, as assuming that Alfons didn't have anything more to say.

"This effect isn't discovered yet," Alfons said, still a little breathless. "Not officially."

Edward just waved him off. "Then it probably will be."

Alfons scowled. He had still not forgotten what Edward had said the first night. What did the other world-things mean? Maybe he meant it in an abstracted way. Another world in his head. Maybe he had a deeper understanding of science that no one else had, just like Albert Einstein? But Alfons had to ask anyway.

"Why did you say that you were from another world?"

Again Edward fixed his eyes away from his book, staring at him for a long time. Alfons almost felt bad for disturbing him.

"I thought you wouldn't be friends with me anymore, if you believed I was crazy," Edward said.

Alfons narrowed his eyes. This was definitely not the reply he had expected. Maybe Edward wasn't completely normal, but so what? It was abnormality in a genius sort of way. He was still an… extraordinary person.

Alfons just realized, Edward had never talked about himself unless he asked him. He never said more than he had to. Sometimes he simply avoided questions. He had never actually showed any particular interest.

Why wouldn't Edward want him to be friends with him? Why didn't Edward want any friends at all in the first place? Why did he always sit by himself like indifference was everything?

"You don't have to be here," Edward said. "You can leave me alone if you want."

"Is it me who wants you to be alone, or is it you who doesn't want me here?" Alfons asked rhetorically. He couldn't help the hurt stinging in his stomach. He had thought he and Edward could be best friends.

Edward sighed, lowering his book entirely. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?" Alfons demanded. "Why don't you commit yourself to anyone?" The last question came out more harshly than he had intended.

Edward looked to the side before he replied, almost inaudibly. "You look so much like my brother… it's almost painful."

Before Alfons could think of a reasonable reply, Edward had gathered his books and bag and disappeared fast out of the Library.

Alfons didn't stand up to go after him or call him back. He was left too confused to do anything. Edward was possibly delusional.

--

Late that night, Alfons was lying in his bed at his dorm room, unsuccessfully trying to rest his bleary eyes. He had even given up on reading. He was too tired to concentrate; the words would just swim into each other or cause the annoying river effects in the text as a result of his dyslexia, making his head hurt. And his head was just too full of thoughts, effortlessly preventing him from falling asleep.

Edward had said that he looked like his brother. Edward had never mentioned that he had a brother before. The only time Edward had mentioned a brother was in his story at the pub.

Alfons had felt that something unfathomable had been wrong when Edward looked at him before; he had just never guessed that his _look_ was the actual problem.

But even if he looked like Edward's mentioned brother, why was it so much for Edward to cope with? Couldn't they be friends even though Alfons just looked like someone else?

Maybe his brother was dead. Maybe Edward grieved too much over him.

Alfons doubted that Edward wouldn't block everything personal away from the world. Hide everything behind a thick wall, and never let a soul get close to him.

It was a sad image.

Alfons found himself wanting to be that person, that soul peeking in. He wanted to be close to Edward. Even though he sometimes didn't have a clue what Edward was talking about, or that he sometimes seemed arrogant and careless and felt some sort of sick enjoyment of fighting; whenever they discussed a theory or a book or shared their notes, Alfons somehow felt like he already was that person to Edward. From time to time he could see an open and laughing person behind the indifferent façade, someone who enjoyed his company too.

Alfons felt a small smile revealing on his lips. He would talk to him tomorrow, offering his support and then they would just forget the whole thing. Edward didn't have to open up to him in order for them to be friends. Besides, maybe he just needed some time to adjust and that was of course natural.

He heard the door unlock and open quietly. His roommate had once again been late in tonight. He didn't offer it any more thought, finally falling into half of a light slumber.

Then his covers were abruptly removed from him, and he frowned with a cold shudder of the sudden lack of comforting warmth. _What the...?_

A knee rested on his bedside, and Alfons only had time to turn onto his back to look up at the assaulter, before his head was firmly grabbed and swung hard into the wall.

Alfons slumped down on his mattress, half unconscious, eyes blurred of fog, his head swimming and throbbing of pain.

"Son of a bitch," a voice muttered, climbing on top of the bed, straddling his body and grabbing the front of his T-shirt. "You think you're so brilliant, don't you? German piece of shit."

Alfons blinked, trying to think clearly. A pair of furious green eyes was piercing his from above in the dim room, and rough hands shook him by the front of his night shirt.

"Fritz?" Alfons managed, his heart racing inside his chest. "What are you _doing_?"

Fritz jerked Alfons' head abruptly to the side by the locks of his hair, right into the hard cement wall again. "Shut up!" he barked.

Alfons groaned in agonizing pain, utterly losing his ability to speak. Instead he felt a claw of fear gripping around the insides of his stomach, feeling the strong smell of alcohol gushing from his roommate's breath. Even if his focus was considerably slurred, he could faintly make out the image of Fritz sitting on top of him. And he was older, bigger, more muscular and looking very angry.

"You come here, thinking you're so much smarter than us! Was it smart to kill my father too?" he ranted. "We never wanted to unite with your country! It got him killed!"

Alfons squirmed underneath the attacker, trying to ignore all the aggressive tones coming from his roommate. He tried to form words. He wasn't a murderer. He couldn't stand charge of what his own people had done. He wasn't a politician. Not a soldier. He hadn't even taken part in the war.

_It wasn't his fault!_

"You killed him!" Fritz shouted. "Your people are all murderers! I'll avenge him. I will."

Alfons tried to pry him off, wriggling and snarling, but his arms was shoved away and pinned underneath Fritz's knees.

"Let go of me!" Alfons wheezed sharply.

A fist shot down and connected with his cheek and he gasped, his head spinning approximately in all directions. He lost his consciousness, but only for a couple of seconds. The throbbing pain reaching the nerves in his brain awoke him along with the metallic taste of blood from his lower lip, and he realized that Fritz was talking to him.

"... and the war made my father go insane. It's fucking your fault. He shot a man and then he shot himself in the head some days later. _You drove him insane!_"

"Well, I'm _sorry_," Alfons hissed. "But I'm not responsible for that."

"Your people killed him! _Die!_" Fritz hollered callously.

_It wasn't--_

It was about then Fritz grabbed his pillow and pressed it against his face. Hard. Alfons thought his nose would get crushed. His air was effectively blocked.

"You went crazy and you attacked me," Fritz rambled on, more to himself than Alfons. "It was the only thing I could do in self defence. I will get away with it easily. _I'll kill you_."

Alfons managed to utter a muffled scream, spilling valuable air from his lungs. He struggled by uselessly kicking his feet and tried to lift his body upwards. But the weight on top of him was more than his remaining strength could handle. Most part of Fritz's mass was placed heavily on his stomach, leaving Alfons to not have much sense of mobility left.

Twisting his head to his side, Alfons attempted to suck up a desperate amount of precious air from a different direction, but his head couldn't even move as he was pressed down hard.

His lungs started complaining and soon shrieking. And something that felt like a balloon of carbon dioxide was gathering in his throat, unable to slip out and exchange to necessary oxygen.

He would suffocate. He was being suffocated.

Just as his consciousness was slipping away from his mind and he felt his eyes roll up in his head of the lack of air, Alfons somehow managed to think less and act on his pure instincts. Somehow his slender body managed to throw his legs up and wrapped his knees firmly around the body on top of him. Using all of his remaining powers, he swiftly flipped the assaulter efficiently down to the side, off of him and off the bed. Just like Edward had taught him.

Both of them rolled off the bed, Fritz with his head first, and Alfons hit his knees on the hard floor, before he crawled away from him. He pushed himself up on his hands and feet, panting to get the essential air down his lungs. He was sweaty and his heart was beating fiercely, but at least he wasn't suffocating anymore.

Fritz hissed and moved, and Alfons wasn't slow with bolting away towards the door, ignoring his aching head and knees. He needed help.

Alfons pulled the door hard. It was locked. His heart slammed hard towards the inside of his chest as he gripped the small lock. He hadn't even heard that Fritz had locked the door. To keep people away. To prevent anyone from disturbing them.

Fortunately Alfons could unlock it from the inside, but it slowed him down and Fritz was near enough to grab him when he finally managed to pull the door open wide.

Fritz charged at him. Alfons dodged with a proficient duck and flip, and even managed to lunge back an effective shot into Fritz's stomach, all in one same motion.

One of the weak spots. Edward's lessons had been more useful than he had imagined.

"Omph," said Fritz. The attack came as a surprise.

Alfons slipped passed him and ran at full speed down the hall. His head was still a little dazed, but his focus was clearer. If he could just find someone or call one of the Professors that worked night shift in guarding the dorms in case something happened (something like this for instance), he would be safe.

But then he discovered that Fritz was a better runner. Alfons was caught off guard as Fritz had already caught up with him, and his body was hurled hard into the nearest wall.

He gasped of pain and swayed a little. Fritz gripped for his throat, stringently pinning him to the wall.

"What are you going after me for?" Alfons cringed, clutching Fritz's wrists that clenched dangerously around his throat. "I lost people in the war too," he added fast, starting to feel desperate. "I know how you feel. But--"

Fritz tightened his hold, blocking every airway.

Alfons gagged. "Help!" he managed to cry out and thrashed against the wall.

"Shut up! Just die you little piece of shit!"

But now someone had at least heard that something was wrong. Students had started coming out of their dorm rooms, gasping as they witnessed the sight of the smaller, young blond about to suffocate in the hands of an older and angry student.

"Die! Die!" Fritz yelled; his eyes wide and lunatic and people didn't even dare move closer.

Alfons shut his eyes tight. No one would even have time helping him, or if they would, they would get hurt too.

A new hand suddenly grabbed firmly around Fritz's wrist. "Let him go," a voice said dangerously.

Alfons recognized that voice.

Fritz let out a small whimper of pain.

Alfons opened his eyes slowly as he felt the hands around his throat gradually let go of him, and he stared right into a blond ponytail. He tried to straighten himself, but his knees were shaking badly and he staggered against the wall for support.

The newly arrived person had placed himself in between him and his attacker, holding around Fritz's wrist so hard that the older had started screaming and scratching uncontrollably at Edward's arm with the fingernails of his free hand.

Alfons inhaled deeply, watching with his large cobalt eyes which only grew wider of the sight.

Edward's skin was being scratched away by the Austrian. But he didn't do anything to prevent it or let go of his arm.

"If you even as much as _look_ at Alfons again," he said in a low voice, "It'll be the last thing you'll ever see and I swear, I'll pay you back with every scrap of pain you have caused him."

Fritz's screams were dying, turning into an uncontrolled sob. Then he ripped the entire skin off Edward's arm.

Alfons cringed, a short gasp escaping his lips. Revealing of the scratched "skin", there was no blood. No natural humanly part of the arm was exposed. Only dark, cold metal. Alfons straightened himself up, swallowing hard.

Fritz was sobbing – looking like a hurt animal, and Edward just watched him unmoving with his brows knitted and a cold look about his golden eyes. Then he let go of the Austrian's arm and shoved the scraping man away from him. He remained on the floor, squirming in pain and holding his hurting arm tightly to his chest. It was possibly broken.

Edward averted Alfons's eyes as he covered his exposed right prosthetic arm with his left, and hurried off, away from all the apprehensive eyes that were suddenly directed at him.

Alfons looked after him, still supporting himself against the wall, his eyes still large as a pair of china.

Edward had an arm of metal just like the boy in his fiction stories.

--

The following day Edward was absent from class. Now and then, some of Alfons' friends and other students gave him a supporting clap on his shoulder to show their sympathy. The rumour of what had happened had spread to the whole school in bare minutes. And Alfons had a red mark around his throat as proof and bandage fairly placed around his head.

He didn't exactly mind the attention; people actually acted quite nice towards him. But still he could have lived without it. And the one's attention he really wanted wasn't around.

He ate his lunch in the Library, having a date with one of his books where it wasn't so crowded. When there was too much sound in one room at the time, his head would start throbbing again.

He decided to not think of it. One person like Fritz wouldn't ruin his life because of a minor thing as hatred. Not that hatred was a minor thing at all. It was the root to all evil of the world. One of many things. Hatred was the main thing that accepted the outcome of a war. And there had already been a war. Now people might start thinking differently. After all, people learned from mistakes, didn't they?

"_I'll kill you."_

Alfons shook his head lightly and went back to the book. He would never see that guy again.

"Alfons," a voice said, a little hesitantly.

He looked up, seeing the ponytailed wonder standing some feet away, giving him an asking look.

Alfons immediately put down his book, a small smile revealing on his lips by the sight of him. "You want to take a seat?"

Edward smiled thinly back and slumped down on the chair crossways of him. "I wanted to apologize," he started.

"For saving my life?" Alfons snorted, but couldn't succeed hiding his smile.

Edward leant a little further, rolling his eyes. "Moron... I just wanted to say... I want us to be friends, Alfons."

Alfons smiled, but his eyes were serious. "I understand that it must be painful to you, if your brother is gone and you see him whenever you look at me."

He really did understand that now. People would sometimes see a person that resembled something to them, either good or bad, and all they would think of when they looked at that particular person was how much they missed the person they had once lost.

Edward shook his head. "Don't think about it. He... He isn't actually _gone_. At least I hope he isn't."

Alfons gave him a questioningly look.

"You wanted to know why I study rocketry?" Edward continued. "It's because I need it to find him. I need to find out if he's still alive."

Alfons nodded, accepting the answer. "I understand." He looked a bit worriedly at Edward's metal arm. He had only a short white glove now to help protecting the metal underneath his shirt. He could see his metallic prosthetic wrist within the small gap between the glove and the sleeve of his shirt.

"Was your arm damaged?"

Edward shook his head with a small smile. "Just the silicon padding. It's okay."

Alfons nodded again. "What happened... to your arm?"

"It was an accident," Edward replied. "My little brother Al and I... we did something we shouldn't have done, and both he and I barely came from it alive. I lost my right arm and left leg."

Alfons looked apprehensively at the ponytailed boy. That was a horrifying story. He was almost glad Edward skipped the details.

"I'm over it," Edward said. "I've accepted that I won't get them back."

Alfons gave him an uplifting smile. "What about your brother then? Is he okay?"

Edward's golden eyes went back into the unique dreamy look he sometimes possessed. "I hope so. I think he is okay now."

"Tell me about him." Alfons was very interested. He wondered why Edward couldn't find his brother without rocketry. It sounded strange, but he wouldn't dig more into it than Edward wanted to share. If Edward wanted to tell him something, he probably would when he felt okay with it.

Edward rested his cheek on his left hand. "My little brother, Al. Where to start..." He leant back in his chair, and his eyes gazed distantly out in space, and Alfons listened to his words with both his ears and his heart.

"Al is probably the most caring person in the world. We were on our own, but he always watched my back. No matter what happened, Al's patience was the only thing that could calm me down. And he loves cats. Often he would find a stray cat somewhere and beg me to keep it. And even if I didn't let him, he wouldn't complain. We rarely had a fight, but if we did, he'd go sit by the ocean or river and we'd both regret everything and make it up. He always called me Brother..." Edward's golden eyes softened and looked back at Alfons.

Alfons felt a warm happiness inside. Edward was opening up to him. He hoped Edward one day would find his little brother again. "I'd like to meet your brother one day," he said.

Edward smiled weakly. "Yeah..." There was a small silence before he changed the subject. "What happened to your room-buddy, by the way?"

"He was suspended," Alfons replied, rubbing his forehead. "He won't be coming back to school."

"Ah."

"What?" said Alfons half-jokingly. "Do you want to move in with me?"

Edward grinned, a little shyly. "If you wouldn't mind."

Alfons was slightly taken aback. "I wouldn't."

"Someone has to watch your back," Edward said matter-of-factly.

"What? You should've seen me when I punched him," Alfons countered.

Edward's grin grew wider. "Why don't you show me later?"

"I'll show you," Alfons challenged.

--

Spring and the end of the first school year seemed to come all too fast, but his coughing just grew worse.

"Happy birthday, Alfons," Edward said smiling timidly, handing him a thick square package wrapped in a rigid piece of brown paper and a white string tied around it.

"Thank you," Alfons said equally bashful as his roommate, not to mention noticeably feeling taken aback. He had only told Edward his birthday once and that was months ago, and he still remembered it. An even stranger thing was that Edward actually had bought him a birthday present. Edward wasn't really the present-giving type of person.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Edward asked.

"Yes, of course." Alfons smiled. "You just surprised me." He unwrapped the stiff paper, revealing a black book with a hard cover.

"That was the main idea," Edward replied.

Alfons studied the book. It was a scientifically written book about stars.

"Do you like it?" Edward asked, a little hesitant.

Alfons looked up at him and just nodded. Speechless. He loved it. "Thank you, Edward."

--

Later the same day Edward lay on his stomach on his bed with an open book in front of his nose, while Alfons sat by their shared desk, hovering over his unfinished homework, occasionally coughing.

Edward quirked an eyebrow at him. "Call a doctor, Alfons."

"It's just a common cold," Alfons insisted. He had fallen behind on the assignments, being sick and the nights contained of feverish sleep and hurting lungs. But a fever wasn't anything serious and he usually recovered from it quickly.

"You've been coughing like that for a month," Edward informed, killing his optimism.

"I need to finish this," Alfons said, tiredly rubbing his forehead. That was at least true. If he fell any more behind now, he would get trouble with his spring term exams. "But thanks for your concern," he added.

Edward stood up from his bed and stepped gallantly over to his roommate, snapping the quill out of Alfons's hand.

"Go," he said.

The discussion ended with Alfons giving in.

He went to the school nurse. She listened to his breathing, looking worried. "I want you to go to a professional doctor, Mr. Heiderich, and let him have a look at it."

Alfons scowled at her in alarm. It couldn't be...

He got it confirmed later that day after seeing the local doctor. He had _it_. He had seen his mother suffer from it for over a year before she died.

_Happy birthday Alfons_, he told himself.

When he returned to school he went straight for a payphone, dialling the number he had memorized a long time ago. It was the only phone number he knew.

"Hello?" a friendly man's voice said.

"This is Alfons," he said, still a little shaken.

"Alfons! It's good to hear from you! How are you?"

"I'm okay," Alfons said. "But I think I'll return to Munich after the exams."

"What? Are you dropping out of University?" the man in the other end asked stunned.

"I want to work, Falman, if you have a spot on your team..." He tried hard not to sound desperate.

Vato Falman paused. But only for a second. "I'll always have a spot on my team for you, Alfons. I will be happy to have you leading our new project together with me, and I know the rest of the team will too."

Alfons could hear the honest smile in his voice. This was almost too good to be true. "Thank you, sir... I won't disappoint you."

"I look forward to be seeing you again," the man said cheerfully. "Your father would be proud of you if he had lived to see you now."

Alfons' eyes watered, forcing his voice to sound normal. "I have a good friend here... If he wants to come with me, I'll bring him. He could help out."

"I'll see what I can do," Falman replied. "Good luck on your exams, Alfons."

"Thank you," he answered gratefully.

When he returned to his dorm room, Edward lay on his back on his bed with closed eyes but still wearing all his clothes. Alfons glanced at the desk, at the homework awaiting him, thinking he should better start again, but stopped with a small frown.

All the tasks of his assignment had already been finished, with Edward's most prestigious left handwriting.

Alfons smiled a small smile, gazing towards the slumbering figure on the bed. He walked slowly towards him, his pale shadow falling across Edward's face as he stopped by the foot of the bed. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep. Alfons didn't really want to wake him, but couldn't wait until tomorrow with telling him. He felt a little relieved as the ponytailed blond's face suddenly stirred on its own.

Opening his eyes leisurely, still hazed from sleep, Edward focused on him with his animated golden orbs. "How did it go?" he asked.

Alfons' smile never faltered. "Do you want to come to Munich with me?"

_Maybe your world really is close to the stars,_

_in the bleary skies of our dreams. _

_Let's find out together._

_--_

AN: Continues in _Munich 1923: Our World's Meet_ and _Amestris 1917: The Equivalent Bond_

_Thank you for reading! Please leave a review before you go :)  
_


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